


A Visit Under the Clouds

by graciegirl2001



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (kinda), Angst, Canon Compliant, DNF, Dream Smp, M/M, More like Misunderstood Love, Mutual Pining, Touch-Starved, Unrequited Love, dream is in the prison, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graciegirl2001/pseuds/graciegirl2001
Summary: “You’re positive about this George?” Sam asks, leaning against the wall. “No one would know if we went back now. He’ll still be here.”George thinks he might be sick, but refuses the offer. “I’m going to see him. Now.”(i.e. George finally musters up the courage to visit Dream in Pandora's vault.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 233





	A Visit Under the Clouds

The day George finally decides to visit the prison it is pouring rain. It comes down in sheets, the wind pushing him to and fro along the cobblestone pathway. The surrounding ocean levels are rising, waves lapping against his ankles. He pulls his cloak closer around him, despite the fact he is already soaked to the bone. 

It’s been months since Dream was carted off to solitary confinement in the great dark building. It stands like a stark shadow against the sky, visible from miles away. Sapnap had offered to go with, but George merely shook his head, setting his jaw.

“I need to do this,” he had said. “Alone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer? You can always go another time if you’re not ready," Sapnap replied, worried.

“No, it needs to be now, before I lose my nerve. I could wait for years and never be ready.”

Sapnap gave him a pat on the shoulder, not meeting his eyes. “Okay. But be safe. Let me know how it goes.”

The prison grows ever closer, and George suddenly wishes he did have Sapnap with him. Fear surges through him, and he feels his muscles lock up. Really, it's not too late. It’s not too late to turn around and go back to his warm house and warm bed, slipping into sweet unconsciousness, dreaming of happier times. 

"No," George grits his teeth. If he doesn’t go now, he never will. Despite the knots in his stomach, he forges onward. 

The guards tense at his approach, but quickly lower their weapons when they recognize him. 

“George?” Punz says, the surprise evident on his face.

“Can I see him?” 

Punz seems taken aback, exhaling loudly. He glances at Sam beside him, shifting the sword in his hand.

Sam runs a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know George… you know how he is. We’ve been trying-”

“Please,” He doesn’t mean to sound so desperate, but the idea of turning back with nothing is too much to bear. 

Sam hears the way his voice wavers, sees how his expression crumples in distress, and looks down in defeat. “Alright. Just for a few minutes.” He opens a panel on the wall, entering a complex code. The intricate door before them begins to unfold, and Sam steps through it, George in tow.

The prison is cool, but dry, and George is grateful for the reprieve from the rain. He’s only been in here once before, when Sam had given Dream a tour of the entryway before the building’s completion. He wonders if Sam knew then, who the prison was destined to hold. 

George follows his instructions to stand on the paneling in the middle of the room, and they descend lower… and lower into the earth. 

They reach the first set of cells, and George begins to sweat, despite the chill. He goes to step into the hallway but Sam shakes his head. “He’s not there. Further in.”

_How much further could he be?_

The prison seems endless. They pass through chamber after chamber, some with cells, others stacked wall to ceiling with chests of all shapes and sizes. Each door, each keypad, each pressure plate is different, and George begins to fully understand why the place is considered inescapable. Sam leads them through the maze with practiced ease, hardly uttering a single word. George doesn’t know if the silence or small talk would be better.

Finally, after what feels like hours, they reach an iron wall, towering up ten… twenty feet above them. It looks woven together, the entire surface made up of assorted gears, and pipes and chains. Sam presses his finger against the tip of a small, gold podium protruding from the ground. It comes back with a red drop on the surface. 

“You need to let it prick you,” he says, wrapping his finger in a white bandage. “It will track your movements in the cell so we know if we need to interfere.”

George eyes the podium suspiciously.

“It will only hurt for a second,” Sam assures. “Just a safety precaution.”

George does as he is told, wincing only slightly when the miniscule needle enters his fingertip. He pulls away, pinching his fingers together and watching the bead of blood run over the surface. Sam offers him a bandage and George takes it absentmindedly, focused on his hand.

He misses whatever Sam does to start the process, but the sound of metal grinding makes him jump, and he looks up to see the wall splitting apart, each section unlocking and twisting past each other. 

“You’re positive about this George?” Sam asks, leaning against the wall. “No one would know if we went back now. He’ll still be here.”

George thinks he might be sick, but refuses the offer. “I’m going to see him. Now.”

Sure now that George won’t be convinced, Sam guides him into the final chamber, the door closing behind them with a multitude of clicking and buzzing noises. 

Before them sits an obsidian box. It lies in the center of the large room, left completely empty. The box itself is a little over ten feet by ten feet, with no openings anywhere. Blood pounds in George’s ears. 

“Is he…?”

Sam nods towards the obsidian structure. 

George waits expectedly for Sam to lead the way forward, but the man doesn’t move. 

“How am I supposed to get in?”

Sam shoots a disdainful look at the box and shrugs. “It’s up to him.”

“You mean-”

“We didn’t build that. He did. It just showed up one day and he hasn’t come out since.”

“Oh.” George feels a sort of sadness wash over him. The idea of Dream shutting himself in there for so long… being left alone like that… it isn’t like him. 

“Okay.” He takes a shaky breath and moves towards the glittering black material. “Okay.”

He places a hand on the surface. Surprisingly, it’s warm to the touch. 

“Dream?” He calls softly. “It’s me.”

He waits. The silence is deafening.

George closes his hand into a fist, and rests his forehead against the obsidian. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I’m here now. But you need to let me in. _Please_ let me in.” 

For a moment, he thinks Dream hasn’t heard him, or is ignoring him, but when George opens his eyes, he is surrounded on all sides by black ore.

His heart flutters and he snaps his gaze toward the figure ahead of him. Dream is sitting against the far wall, knees tucked close to his chest, arms wrapped around himself. Only the top of his head is visible from afar. The air leaves George’s lungs. 

“Dream,” the name escapes his lips. 

His hair hangs long, not tied back like it normally is. The bits of his jaw that peek past his arms are shadowed, weeks old bruises hidden beneath dark stubble. George wonders if they let him bathe here, or if he has refused to do so. 

George’s feet carry him forward without thinking. Dream doesn’t react, even when he drops to his knees in front of him.

“Dream,” he repeats, voice breaking. “I’m here. ...I’m here.”

He reaches out a trembling hand, brushing greasy hair away from Dream’s face. He isn’t sure if he imagines the way he leans into his touch. 

George lets his fingers glide under the man’s chin, lifting it gently so that bright green eyes meet his. Dream takes in a sharp, shuddering breath. 

“George.”

George nods tearfully, pulling his friend in, so that his form drapes around him. Dream’s head rests limply on George’s shoulder, George’s hands splayed against his back. He grips the thin fabric of Dream’s shirt. 

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and Dream buries his face in his neck. 

“You came,” Dream breathes.

“Of course.” 

“I didn’t think you would. I thought maybe… after what I’ve done...”

Images of a ruined country… of screaming voices... fill his head. He pushes them away. Not here. Not now.

Dream’s hand cards through George’s soft hair, and he sighs.

“Your hair is longer,” Dream mutters.

“I’ve grown it out a bit.” He feels like flying.

“I like it,” Dream replies, and he can feel the smile on his skin. 

Dream pulls back, hands atop George’s shoulders. “You’re gonna find a way to get me out, right?” He asks, eyes bright and hopeful. 

A way out?

George’s heart sinks. “Oh.”

Dream searches his expression. “Oh?”

He avoids his eyes. “That’s uh… I mean, that’s not why I’m here.”

Dream’s smile falls. “It’s not?”

“No.”

He slouches, pulling his hands away. George aches for his touch to return, the absence of it leaving him feeling cold and empty. 

“Why did you come then?” Dream asks, and George tries to ignore the disappointment lacing his tone. It stings.

“I just… wanted to see you?”

Dream frowns.

George feels a sharp stab of anger. What had he expected? He was the one who had gotten himself in here in the first place. That wasn’t George’s fault. Was that the only reason Dream had wanted him here? 

“I thought you might have wanted to see me too.” He waits for a rebuttal that doesn’t come. “...But I guess not.”

“That’s not it George… don’t be like this,” Dream replies, tone pleading, but George has already gotten to his feet. 

“No it’s okay, I get it.”

Dream scrambles up, trying to stop him.

George continues. “I had hoped that maybe I was more than just another one of your pawns. I thought I was different from the rest of them. But I suppose that was foolish. Naive. It’s all just a part of your silly little game isn’t it?”

“George.” Dream catches his hand. George tries to tear it away, but he holds fast.

“Don’t touch me!” George snaps. 

Dream yanks him impossibly close, and kisses him, hard. George nearly trips, stumbling back a few steps. Dream’s lips are feverish against his, his hand curled tightly in the hair at the back of George’s skull. 

He pushes Dream off, tears pricking the backs of his eyes. 

Dream stands, breathing heavily, arms hanging limply at his side. He looks as if he’s been slapped. It's all wrong.

How long has he wanted this? How long has he begged silently for Dream to kiss him like that? So why... why does it have to be now? Why when Dream has just finished ripping the lives and homes of his friends away? Why when that forgotten spark of hope- that Dream cared, _really_ cared- had finally been rekindled in his chest?

“No,” George says firmly, voice low, his whole body shaking. “You can’t just do that. You can’t _do_ that to me.”

Dream opens his mouth to speak, but George cuts him off. “Don’t say anything. Please. I’m not letting you get to me anymore.”

Dream stays suspended, rocked forward on his toes as if about to run forward any moment. He doesn’t.

“Sapnap was right. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie isn’t it?” George laughs humorlessly. “It’s all just for your own gain.” 

“George, please,” Dream sounds so small, so desperate, that George almost breaks. It takes every ounce of willpower he has to not fall back into his embrace. 

“I’m through with you only paying me any attention when it’s convenient to you. I’m through with watching you hurt the people I love. I’m through with having my heart broken over and over and over because you refuse to be anything but selfish.”

His lip trembles, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. “Goodbye Dream,” he finally says.

Dream’s eyes widen with panic. “No, no... you can’t leave me here! Just stay. Just stay George... I need you to stay.” The choked words spill out in a frantic never ending stream. “You don’t understand, George. I love you. I really do- I know I’ve never said it, but I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

But George has already stepped into the obsidian wall, and out the other side. His whole chest aches. “I’m ready to go, Sam,” he calls weakly, throat tight. “Please get me out of here.”

Sam responds wordlessly, opening the door before them. Light floods the room once again, washing over their skin as the wall disappears, revealing their exit. 

George takes a deep breath, and crosses briskly through it, not looking back. 

But that night, alone in his makeshift room in Sapnap’s house, a pillow muffling the sounds… George cries for a long… long time. 


End file.
